Each Friday, our barkeep Pete crushes on some dudes. There’s nothing weird about it.
Patio weather, bitches!
We just rolled the jumbo umbrellas and the all-weather couches out to the back deck of Pete’s. There’s not a lot of foot traffic to ogle at back there, but the patio is open as long as you can stand the bugs. We put out the citronella tikis but they don’t do shit, unless one’s burning in your lap. Pete’s is wedged between an RV dealer and a semi-truck wash so we don’t have to close the patio for the sake of the neighbors and their precious sleep patterns. Except for the four hours on Monday when we hose down the furniture, the Patio remains open until the first leaf falls.
The only noise violation we ever received was called in from one of the RV salesman during the Kentucky Derby in ’01. We were flying high after Monarchos busted two minutes, and started to wager on the speculative buyers walking into the RV dealer. It got fairly rowdy and some of our regulars thought a well-placed chant would sway a purchase. After the “It’s a le-mon” chant got going, someone called the cops.
Lucky for us the fuzz is on our side. Law Dogs drink for half price here at the Pete’s, so after a bit of a blustery show out back to satisfy the salesmen at the RV joint, Bobby let us off with a warning. Needless to say Bobby’s drinks were on the house for the rest of the month. In hindsight, the ticket might have been cheaper, but Bobby ended up making captain over at the station, and it’s good to have friends with authority.
Where was I? Oh right. Patio weather. Well I think Andy Dufresne summed it up best: “A man working outdoors feels more like a man if he can have a bottle of suds. That’s only my opinion, sir.” He’s right. Although you should probably change “working” to “sitting on our fat asses” and cut out that sir shit, but the sentiment is the same.
The NBA and NHL playoffs are in full swing and we got the all-weather TV outside on non-stop. It’s Friday and you know the drill. Man crushin’. Who ya got? Roll Call.
The ever dapper Swede busted out his Jesus-on-skates routine. “The times when you have seen only one set of skate marks, is when I carried you,” sayeth the King of Keepers. With the New York Rangers down 3-2 against the Washington Capitals, King Henrik said no mas, and put a lid on the net for the rest of the series. That’s right, back-to-back shutouts on back-to-back days against Alex Ovechkin and company. Sixty-two pucks came at him over the 30-hour span and none of them got behind him. Pretty Boss. He’s the best thing going in NYC these days, and that’s saying something.
The Chicago Bulls ancient center may just be the strongest man alive. I know ESPN runs those Strongman competitions, but that only tests your abilities to throw kegs over walls and lift small vehicles on your back. Last time I checked there wasn’t a LeBron toss in the strong man competition. Nazr pushed LeBron 30 feet after a hard foul. Thirty feet. A 250-pound man, nay, a 250-pound King was pushed 10 yards by Nazr.
And there’s no possible way that LeBron flopped, because the world’s greatest athlete would never do such a thing. There’s only one logical conclusion: Nazr Mohammed is the strongest man in the world, nay, universe. I bow in your general direction.
You magnificent bastard. The unflappable Silver Fox is at it again. We were a bit behind on this season of “Mad Men” at Pete’s, but we caught up earlier this week. God dammit, if Roger isn’t the best thing since sliced everything. A couple of weeks ago he blew off his international lady friend to land the biggest damn pitch the firm had ever come across. Roger blowing off pleasure for work? Scandal! Well not completely. His young lover gave him the drop on a bigwig that was flying her airline and Roger took a flight to the Motor City to get a shot at Chevy. Roger was at his absolute deliciousness on All Mother’s Eve when he used his dead mother as bait for a sympathy roll in the hay. It sounds desperate, but it was anything but in the hands of a master. Pat, pat. The bed is waiting, darling. You’re aces, Roger.
Enjoy the weekend, tip a glass, and let a little love into your life.